


rolling on the wind with you

by pendules



Series: post-trk conversations [4]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Conversations, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I don't think I had a real crush on a real boy for a long time, though," he says thoughtfully.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"And then?" Ronan prompts, expectantly.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"And then <i>you</i> started looking at me," he finishes.</i>
</p><p>Or: Adam and Ronan have a conversation about liking boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rolling on the wind with you

"So, when did you know?" Adam asks one late afternoon in early summer when they're sprawled on the carpet in the living room, their heads resting languidly on the soft couch cushions behind them. They're both sweaty and breathless and bone-tired from chasing after Opal for the last hour after an already long, full day of routine chores and repairs interspersed with some light shenanigans and the odd task involving experimental dream magic that's to be expected with this particular farm, with _Ronan_ , even if the thrill never quite goes away. He's found that he doesn't mind helping out on his free days, though. Work doesn't _feel_ like work here. Maybe it's the sun on his face and breathing in the fresh air instead of being stuck at the garage staring at the undercarriage of a car for hours or holed up at his desk in his cramped apartment with a stack of books blocking the admittedly meagre view out his tiny window. Maybe it's just another effect of this place. Maybe it's just the effect of Ronan.

"Know what?" Ronan murmurs, his chest still rising and falling in a rapid rhythm, his cheeks and neck flushed from exertion.

"That you were, you know — into guys." It's something he's been musing on more and more in the last couple weeks. He thinks it's a reassuring sign that he can even afford to devote his time and thoughts to the subject now. For the first few months of this, there were so many other pressing concerns to occupy his mind — the consequences of Gansey's death and resurrection, the vividly horrifying memories of Ronan's _almost_ death, the dark weight of his grief for his mother, the hollow loss of Cabeswater and Adam's connection to it — that he'd put this particular internal debate aside for later. For when things were back to some semblance of normalcy. Or _their_ version of normalcy, anyway, just with some earth-shattering realisations and newfound intimacy thrown in between them. (Along with slowly and lovingly growing the roots of a life and future that is _theirs_ , collectively, inextricably, which is something he would've never been able to conceive as a part of his _normal_ not long ago, but which feels more _right_ than probably anything else he's ever known.) It seems like that time has come.

Ronan raises his eyebrows slightly at the non sequitur but he doesn't say anything for a few moments. Just hums under his breath like he's carefully considering his response. 

Eventually, he looks across at him and just says, "Always."

"Yeah?" Adam says, narrowing his eyes, studying his face.

"Yeah, I can't remember ever being into girls. Or _wanting_ to be, even. When we were little, my mom used to tell us these fairytales about princes rescuing princesses from towers and I think I was always more interested in the _princes_."

It's almost more than he even dared to hope for. They haven't really talked about anything like _this_ before, and although Ronan shares cherished childhood memories more often these days, it still takes a bit of coaxing to get him to open up this much.

"That's _adorable_ ," Adam says, unable to contain a huge, utterly delighted grin.

"Shut up," Ronan says, rolling his eyes.

"Are you going to call me your _prince_ now?" Adam teases.

"I don't know. Do you _want_ me to? Would that get you hot?" Ronan counters.

It's his turn to be embarrassed. He swallows hard before averting his eyes. "Shut up," he echoes quietly.

"Hey, you _asked_ ," Ronan points out with his most innocent smile.

"So, it was that simple?" Adam says after a moment, more soberly now.

"No, not all the time," he admits. "It was confusing. But _a lot_ of stuff was confusing then." He shrugs but the tension in his jaw belies his casual tone. It's still hard to imagine how difficult it must have been for Ronan to reconcile all the different parts of himself: his unfathomable power and his fierce, unwavering love and his fealty to his God and his fear of being an irredeemable weapon. Who he is because of his father and who he is without him, despite him. It just makes Adam more grateful for every loose smile and easy laugh he gets to witness. Every moment Ronan gets to spend in the home he loves, with the people who love him. Every small bit of happiness he gets to share with him.

"Did your parents know?" he says, feeling like it's okay to ask now, almost like Ronan _wants_ him to know. To know these things he's probably never told anyone else.

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't _tell_ them or anything, but they probably did."

"And they were okay with it?"

"I guess."

"And you had crushes on boys since then?"

"Yeah. A few. I mean, it was more infatuation than anything real. Until, well, you know," he says, meeting his eyes in a significant way. Logically, Adam had known that he was probably the first person Ronan ever had such strong feelings for, but the clear admission of it, along with knowing now that it's the same for him, still makes his stomach flutter and warmth rise in his cheeks. 

"So, you didn't think you were going to hell or anything?" Adam asks cautiously.

"Well, I probably _still_ am, so —"

Adam gives him a reproachful look. "Not funny."

"Hey, we _already_ survived hell," Ronan says with another rueful shrug. "I'm not worried about it anymore. It's hard to care about anything but _this_."

Adam nods understandingly, expression going soft and fond, before reaching out and gently encircling his fingers around Ronan's wrist, thumb brushing over his pulse point.

"What about you?" Ronan says, gaze curious, after a minute of silence.

"I — I don't know," he says, shaking his head. It's been months and there's no denying that this thing he has with Ronan is something that he wants to have for as long as he can envision, but it's still hard to begin to explain it or to determine when it all changed. Maybe there wasn't just one moment. Maybe it happened without him even noticing and then one day, it was the _only_ thing he could notice. Like it had suddenly been snapped into sharp focus. Like a wondrous revelation that simultaneously tilts the world on its axis and feels like coming home. Like looking into someone else's eyes and finally feeling completely _known_ after a lifetime of doubt. It's almost simple now. Those questions don't haunt his dreams anymore. Ronan's at the centre of this storm but it's the surest, safest place to be. Everything else licking at the edges of that indelible truth is more chaotic and nebulous: desire and love and wants and needs tangled together in the recesses of his mind. It's not the question of Ronan that needs solving, but the question of _himself_ and what it inherently means for him. _About_ him. He's still in the process of deciphering the various pieces of his own mind and heart and self and how they all fit together. "I never really thought about it. Being into girls was easier because it was _expected_. Like, objectively, I knew when guys were attractive. But I don't think I registered that as _me_ being attracted _to_ them. Just wanting to _be_ them or something."

"So, who was the first guy you thought was hot?" Ronan asks.

"I don't know. Probably some actor or model or something. I used to hide Armani ads under my mattress," he admits with a soft laugh. He didn't know what felt more fanciful and dangerous back then: aspiring to be one of those polished, well-dressed, successful men or the thought that he might _want_ someone who looked like that instead of the scantily-clad models on his father's walls.

"Of course you did," Ronan says appreciatively.

"I don't think I had a real crush on a real boy for a long time, though," he says thoughtfully.

"And then?" Ronan prompts, expectantly.

"And then _you_ started looking at me," he finishes.

"You saying I was your sexual awakening?" he says, look way too pleased with himself.

"Asshole." And then, after a pause, mostly to wipe the smug grin off his face, "Actually, _Gansey_ probably was."

"Fuck off," Ronan says, actually sounding shocked and offended.

"No, I'm serious. He was _really_ hot —"

"Please stop," Ronan grits out, squeezing his eyes shut for a second in an actual grimace.

"You _asked_ ," Adam says, mockingly.

"So, you wanted to fuck Gansey?" Ronan says abruptly, deliberately being crude now in an attempt to hide his own discomfort.

Adam cringes. " _No_. God. I definitely didn't think _that_ far ahead. It probably felt as ridiculous and impossible as wanting to be with one of those guys in those magazines at first." He doesn't say that the idea of being with _Ronan_ like this had maybe felt the exact same way too. It was like he was from an entirely different species, even before he knew how close to the truth that notion actually was. It still feels that way sometimes, but he's willing to learn all the parts he doesn't know yet, the _real_ parts, the parts they can figure out together, as long as Ronan lets him.

"And when you got to know him, his actual personality was a complete turn-off. I get it," Ronan says, nodding sagely.

"Shut up. That obviously wasn't it. But the longer we were friends, the more I just...wanted to be friends with him. Even if it was difficult and messy sometimes. I _needed_ that. Being attracted to him for a minute or two didn't really matter. It was too important to want it to be anything else." 

Ronan nods for real now. 

"As opposed to your incurable lust for yours truly —" he says, feigning sympathy.

"Of course," Adam agrees, smirking, because there's no point denying it.

"So, you _wouldn't_ hook up with him if given the chance? With no strings?" Ronan asks coolly. "Purely hypothetically."

"Nah, it's too fucking weird to think about now," Adam says immediately.

"And that's the _only_ reason?"

"Yeah. Obviously," Adam deadpans.

"You're _such_ an asshole," Ronan says, almost admiringly.

"Yeah, that's why you like me."

Ronan doesn't deny it.

"Okay, be real with me, though," he says seriously. "I'm way hotter than Old Man Dick, right?"

"Shut up, asshole," Adam says, pulling him into a deep, purposeful kiss, which hopefully answers his question. When he pulls away to catch his breath, he can feel Ronan's content smile against his lips.


End file.
